The Roberts Title & Other Absurdities
by MorganBonny
Summary: Will's obligated to take the title of Dread Pirate Roberts, Norrington's horrified to be brought back from the dead by Calypso, the FD goes on strike and the new DPR gets scammed into buying a new 'Soul-Lockah! Nonsense, anachronism and stupidity ensue
1. I THE ROBERTS TITLE

The Roberts Title & other Absurdities

The original Dread Pirate Roberts belongs, of course, to the wonderful book/movie _The_ _Princess Bride_ and whomever currently holds the rights to it. The PotC characters belonged to Disney before I got ahold of them, but I'm not sure they'd recognize them enough to want them back now.

These ficlets are in no real set order, just a general collection of nonsense set shortly after the end of AWE. I'll try and update frequently. Suggestions welcomed.

I. THE ROBERTS TITLE

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With a vivid flash of green, the land, the sea, the sunlight vanished into gloom. Will Turner was leaving the world behind again, Elizabeth's world, to walk nearly ten years in darkness and shadow. Despair welled up in him as it always did, the space where his heart ought to be ached fiercely and – the _Flying Dutchman_ gave a terrible, groaning shudder and stopped dead in the water.

Will blinked, abruptly pulled from his angst, and glanced around at the stereotypical, monochromatic mist, then up at the sails. Despite the complete lack of any real wind, the sails were drawing full and they ought to be quartering on the starboard tack. Why they were not was a mystery to him. Of course, how the _Dutchman_ could sail with no wind also was a mystery to him, but it was a mystery he'd given up on figuring out.

It had felt like they'd run upon a reef, but that couldn't be right. They were in the Underworld. Did the Underworld even have reefs? That couldn't be right. What was wrong with the stupid ship now?

He headed afore and peered over the bow, his bewilderment temporarily ousting his self-pity. An improperly stowed leadline trailed forlornly in the dark, oozing water. He didn't see any rocks or reefs or, well, anything really. Just...dark, oozing water.

He sighed. If this was the Kraken's idea of a practical joke...

That was when the ship started going backward.

"Alright," Will said aloud. "That is _not_ right." Ships simply did not go backwards. It wasn't even supposed to be possible. Not that a ship that regularly sailed under water was supposed to be any more possible, but that wasn't the point.

He looked around him at the slimy corpses and dramatic fog slowly gliding past the wrong way and started to get seriously annoyed. "This isn't funny," he told the black water. A skinny old sailor in a passing boat shrugged at him, mystified.

"Everythin' a'right up there?" Bootstrap shouted up from belowdecks, where he was playing Go Fish with some of the other crewmen.

"Yes, Dad," Will called back, rolling his eyes. This was humiliating. His ship was sailing backwards and he didn't know why. He sighed. He didn't _wanna_ have to go ask his dad for help. _Again_. That would be the second time this week, not even mentioning the disastrous jib boom incident...

"This thing should come with a handbook," he muttered.

There was a sudden flash of green light, a lot of smoke and then a dazzling brightness. Will threw his arm over his eyes, hearing the sound of someone coughing. He squinted into bright sunlight and realized that he was back in the world. He peered around him.

The sky was blue and strewn with clouds, the ocean slightly choppy. A strong wind struck his face and took the sails aback with a loud crack of straining canvas. The ship trembled and heeled to larboard, but stayed still. At least it wasn't going backwards.

"Youu..." a familiar, sultry voice breathed from close behind him, evoking a horrible sense of deja vu, "ah Weelyam Turnah." _Oh no,_ Will thought. _Not her. I thought I was rid of her when she dissolved into crabs._

"I did think we'd already established that," he replied slightly crossly, turning around.

"I am being t'orough," Calypso retorted just as crossly, jabbing at him with a black fingernail. Will recalled that she was now a Sea Goddess and could probably turn him into a sea urchin if she wanted to, which would be rather hard to explain to Elizabeth. He cast about for something polite to say.

"I like the new look," he ventured, referring to the fact that her skin was now bright blue and wave patterned, though, in all honesty, he found the crooked lines rather difficult to make sense of.

"Dis?" Calypso asked scornfully, gesturing at herself. "Hahdly. Dat SOB Poseidon owes me. Tattoo-artis', my arse."

"...Right."

"Anyway, I com' here wit' a reasoon."

"I figured." Will folded his arms, wondering vaguely if Calypso was aware of the fact that she wasn't wearing anything.

"You...ah Weelyam Turnah de Secoond," Calypso told him in overly mystical tones, drawing herself up. Will sighed.

"Yeah. That's me."

"An' you are d' sooccessoor o' Davy Joones."

"The _what_ of Davy Jones?" Will repeated blankly.

"De sooccessooor," she drawled.

"Uh...maybe?"

"You captain the bloody _Dutchman_, doncha?" Calypso snapped, her voice losing all mystic traces.

"Um, right."

"Goooood," she replied. Will gave her a look and she dropped a couple of Os. "But why do you no' take de title upon you'self?"

"If you can talk normally," Will interrupted, "why don't you? And what title are you talking about?"

"De Roberts title," Calypso told him grandly. "He did no' tell you?"

"Look," Will explained slightly impatiently, "You may have been a crab at the time or possibly even a giant whirlpool, which would explain why you missed some things, because it's probably not very easy to hear in there, but to sum up, my dead body was manhandled into stabbing Jones' heart with Jack's broken sword and then I had my chest hacked open by my dad. I didn't zactly fill out a form and inherit this."

"Da is no' 'mportant," Calypso said indifferently, invading his personal bubble by poking at his face again. Will took a step back. "Youuu mus' take de title!" She gestured wildly and one of the foremast backstays fell apart into a cluster of electric eels.

"Alright, alright, I take the title!" Will placated hurriedly. "Now what happens?"

"You are no' Weelyam Turnah."

"But," protested The-apparently-not-Will, "You just said..."

"I said? I said what?" Calypso lifted a dangerous eyebrow.

"You just said I _was_ William Turner."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"Didn't."

"Did."

"Didn't."

"Did!" Calypso invaded his bubble again. Geez, didn't this woman have any concept of personal space?!

"Argue wit' me, Weelyam Turnah, an' I weel give you gills an' keep you in a cage, like my ot'er boy-toy."

"Wait. What? You have a...? No, never mind, I'm not asking. But...gills? You can do that?"

"What does I say 'bout arguing wit' Calypso?!" she yelled, stabbing a dramatic finger into heaven, triggering a timely flash of lighting as well as transforming most of the tackle blocks into octopi. Will dodged the raining cephalopods, choosing not to point out that they had already been arguing.

"But, but..." he protested, wincing at the soft splat of fleshy octopi bodies striking the deck. "Alright," he sighed, giving in. "I'm not Will Turner II. Who am I?"

"De Dread Pirate Roberts," Calypso stated promptly and matter-of-factly, smugly surveying the creatures suckering around the ship.

"The...Dread Pirate..._Roberts_?" The-newly-christened-Dread-Pirate-Roberts echoed blankly, shaking an octopus off his boot and trying to prevent another from oozing up his leg. "But...I'm not a pirate. And what kind of name is that anyway? Who thought that up?"

"De Dread Pirate Roberts was a great sailor, a terroor oov de sea." She appeared to be warming up her Sea Goddess voice. Used-to-be-Will braced himself to dodge more octopi. "When he died, de title, it was passed on to him sooccessoor, who called himself Roberts een him stead. An' since dat day, de title be passed on to a sooccessoor. Dere ha' been many men before you an' dere will be many aftah, but dere must a'ways be a Dread Pirate Roberts."

The Dread Pirate Roberts sighed heavily. He had learned by now that 'why' was not an acceptable question. 'Just because Jones was an angsty idiot, why do _I_ have to put my heart in a stupid box? How come tentacle-face could come ashore in a damn bucket but I can't? Why must there always be a Dread Pirate Roberts?' It had gotten to the point where he had just stopped asking.

"So...what?" he asked unenthusiastically. "I'm just...supposed to call myself the Dread Pirate Roberts now?" Calypso nodded. "That's ridiculous!" No-longer-Will exclaimed. "Why can't I be the Dread Pirate Will? And really, a 'dread' pirate? How dreadful can you be if you have to keep telling people that you are? 'Hello, are you the pirate Roberts?' 'No, my man, I am the Dread Pirate Roberts. The capitals are important.' Like, really?"

"Youu...have a toouch oov madness aboout youuu, Dread Pirate Roberts," Calypso observed.

"Who're you talkin' to?" Bootstrap hollered unexpectedly from belowdecks. "Are you up there wi' a girl?"

"What?!" The Dread Pirate Roberts didn't believe this. "Da-ad! No." He cradled his forehead in his hand for a moment. "I'm _talking_ to the all-powerful crab goddess of the ocean, Dad, d'you mind?" He turned back to Calypso with a sigh. "Sorry." He took a second to gather his thoughts. "I still want to know why I can't be the Dread Pirate Will, though."

"Youu wan' to knoow-" Calypso began, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. The Dread Pirate Will held up his hand.

"Please. Really? Try that crap on Glaucus or Poseidon." Calypso harrumphed, folding her arms and muttering something about the way Glaucus snored and Poseidon's terrible puns.

"Wait a minute..." Might-still-be-Will mused as something suddenly occurred to him. "Doesn't that mean the last Roberts was Jones?" Calypso nodded, still annoyed. "Then why didn't he have to be called the Dread Pirate Roberts?!" Back-to-being-Will shouted triumphantly. A shower of alarmed octopi greeted his outburst. He made a face as one of the small creatures fell from the foreyard and bounced off the top of his head. Calypso gave him a withering 'you're not supposed to think of things like that' look.

"Legal loophole. Him sued Caaptain Shufflebottom, claiming that-"

"Did you just say 'Shufflebottom'?" Will interrupted, sure he had misunderstood.

"I did," Calypso replied coolly.

"Sorry, I just...I...Go on. Jones sued Captain Shufflebottom..." He fought back a snicker.

"...claiming dat him bestowal oov de title damaged him reputaation as de undead ruuler oov de sea."

"Well, what about my reputation?"

"Dat woould depend. Are any men frightened oov Weelyam Turnah's Lockah?" She paused doubtfully. "You does have a lockah?"

"Um..." Will fidgeted slightly. "Well...kinda? Sure, _technically_, it's still Jones', you know, but... I mean, it still works and everything and he doesn't _need_ it, so, with a little paint...Not that it's permanent or anything, just until I can get my own, but for now, it works and all, so..."

"Youu is sending men's souls to Davy Joones' lockah?" Calypso asked with a lifted eyebrow.

"I'm renting it, alright?" Will muttered defensively, feeling his cheeks burn.

"Keep it dat way," Calypso advised. "Be de Dread Pirate Roberts."

"But hang on," argued the Dread-Pirate-Roberts-once-again, grasping at straws. "Doesn't the name Dread Pirate carry a certain amount of implication in it? Shouldn't he be out pirating something? And anyway, aren't people going to notice that the Dread Pirate Roberts ought to be really, really old by now?"

Calypso gave him the look people usually did when he started using his brain. He'd come to the conclusion that they thought he'd be better off without it. Maybe he ought to have put that in the chest instead...

"Youu will be de Dread Pirate Roberts until you die or you pass on de title," Calypso insisted sternly in a tone that did not welcome argument. "Dere must a'ways be a Dread Pirate Roberts."

"Yeah, yeah, alright," the Dread Pirate Roberts agreed reluctantly, "I'm the Dread Pirate Roberts, I got it." Calypso seemed to be preparing to leave. "Was there anything else?"

"Oh, yes, one t'ing. I was to tell you dat Hefring an' Halie invited you to Ryugu to play Pope Joan wit' dem dis Saturday while Gymir is away." The Dread Pirate Roberts made a face.

"I hate that game. And Halie always cheats. But...tell them I'll see if I can make it. And you wanna take these octopi when you go?" Calypso shrugged noncommittally, already concentrating and mumbling to herself. "You know something?" He timed it just right; Calypso looked at him, but her figure was already blurring. "The 'Nethuns' tattoo is a nice touch." He grinned evilly. Calypso opened her mouth angrily, but all that came out was one very small octopus.

The Dread Pirate Roberts neatly sidestepped the hordes of be-suctioned creatures as Calypso dissolved into a sea of orange tentacles, chuckling to himself. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all.

His laughter died as he looked around him, though. He needed to get back to the Underworld. Now, how was he going to do that? He scratched his head and glanced first at the shivering sails and then at the placid sky. He was going to need some help.

"Uhm...hey, uh, hey Dad? Dad?"

~^///^~

A/N: The first person to find me a genuinely existing, more ridiculous surname than 'Shufflebottom' gets a chapter written for them.

I welcome all ideas/suggestions for future chapters, particularly in regards to sea deities, which I know next to nothing about. More posted soon.

Reviews = love!


	2. II THE FD GETS SLATED FOR REDECORATION

The Roberts Title & other Absurdities

Disclaimer, blah, blah, blah. *scribbles 'Property of Disney' on the characters foreheads with a Sharpie*

William Turner II is henceforward referred to as the Dread Pirate Roberts or possibly as DPR (which has a certain catchiness to it, don't you think?).

Oh, and I'll be adding various gods/goddesses/spirits of the sea to the mix as I go.

II. THE FD GETS SLATED FOR REDECORATION

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The Dread Pirate Roberts was sitting on the fo'c'sle, peering glumly under his cup of dice. What was the point in being the undead ruler of the seas if it didn't even give you the advantage in a game?

He stared intently at the cups his fellow players, his dad and two sea-gods, used to conceal their dice, but learned nothing.

"Seven sixes," the Ethiopian Beher offered.

_Seven sixes, my backside_, the Dread Pirate Roberts thought, but was too lazy to call him out. Tethra calmly bid eight sixes and glanced at the Dread Pirate Roberts, who sighed.

"Nine sixes."

"Liar," Tethra accused in his heavy Irish accent. The Dread Pirate Roberts lifted his cup to reveal a four, three fives and a six. Beher had two fives, two sixes and a two, Bootstrap a six, a one, a five, another six and a four. Tethra himself had four sixes and a five.

"Liar yourself," Beher observed. Tethra growled a curse and hurled the golden cup he'd been using at the mast. It bounced off, badly dented, and rolled off toward the gunwales. The Dread Pirate Roberts flinched – despite the fact that he and the other gods had unparalleled access to all the shipwrecks of the world, this abuse of wealth still bothered him.

Tethra went after the cup, knocked the dent out of it and they set to the game again.

"Three twos," was Bootstrap's bid.

"Four threes."

"Four fours."

"Bored," was all the Dread Pirate Roberts said before falling back to stare up at the sails and gloomy sky.

"This _is_ rather boring," Tethra agreed with his usual lack of tact, casually crumpling the golden cup in his massive hand and tossing it overboard. "You really ought to make this place more interesting," he decided after a minute.

"Interesting?" repeated the Dread Pirate Roberts blankly, lifting his head to look at him. "How interesting can the passage to the Underworld be?"

"You know," Tethra elaborated, tossing his long golden hair away from his face. "Interesting. Improve the lighting, for one thing, maybe ease up a few shades with the gloomy water. Tar pits have better coloring; at least go for a grey-blue or something. And have you considered lightening up on all this creepy fog? This isn't a moor. Don't get me wrong, lad, it makes for a great first impression, very dark and spooky and mysterious and all, but it's just...depressing, you know?"

"Really?" the Dread Pirate Roberts asked with hearty sarcasm Tethra apparently missed, dropping his head back to the deck.

"Oh, aye," the Irish god enthused, "You should see what old Owatatsumi's done with Ryugu. Very classically tasteful."

"I might be down there this Saturday; Halie's having one of her game nights."

"Oh, that's right," Beher put in, "I'd forgotten about that. You going Tethra?"

"Naturally," Tethra answered promptly. "Nehalennia's going to be there."

"That vixen?" scoffed Bootstrap, entering the conversation for the first time. "You have 'bout as much chance of gettin' her as my boy William here has o' winnin' at dice."

"Dread Pirate Roberts," Wishes-he-were-still-named-Will corrected in a mutter for the six millionth time. "And thanks for the support, dad."

"You underestimate me, old man," Tethra replied dismissively, combing back his long hair. "Me and Branwyn go way back."

"If I'm old, what does that make you?" Bootstrap demanded indignantly.

"'Bout two thousand two hundred. Give or take an age," was Tethra's prompt, glowing, response. Bootstrap just shook his head. "You should go, Roberts," Tethra went on. "You'd like Geofon."

"I'm married," the Dread Pirate Roberts told him with a scowl, also for the six millionth time. Tethras only shrugged. "But you know Beletseri?"

"Uh...she's that secretary that signs for the souls and packages at the Underworld, right? The redhead? Or am I thinking of someone else?"

"No, no, that's her. She's sure to be there and she can introduce you to Mayelewo."

"Who's she?" the Dread Pirate Roberts asked warily, still not familiar with the vast pantheon he had become part of.

"Mayelewo? Oh, you'll like her, too. Real savvy, terrific dresser," the Dread Pirate Roberts glanced at the plaid trousers belted with seaweed that were all that Tethra was wearing and doubted the god was a very good judge, "a fantastic artist, she's the one we had paint the sea, and-" But he was once again interrupted.

"She _painted_ the sea?"

"Well, sure, lad." Tethra seemed surprised by DPR's flat incredulity. "Why do you think it's blue?"

"Because..." He searched for a reason, but couldn't think of one. "Because it just is?"

"Aha," replied Tethra triumphantly, "But why do you think it _is_ blue, laddie? Mayelewo painted it that way."

"Aipaloovik wanted it to be red," Beher chimed in, "Like blood. But we managed to vote him down."

"Anyway," the Dread Pirate Roberts broke in, not sure he believed that water could be painted, "What does this have to do with me?"

"Mayelewo knows absolutely all there is to about decorating, laddie," Tethra told him promptly.

"Decorating?" the Dread Pirate Roberts repeated, sitting up. "Oh, come on. The last thing the _Flying Dutchman_ needs is decorating."

"I'm serious. This place is just plain gloomy."

"It's supposed to be!" protested Sometimes-I-forget-he's-now-named-the-Dread-Pirate-Roberts. "People are supposed to be gloomy when they die!" Tethra was shaking his head.

"Lad, it's not about what's supposed to be done. It's about style. With some work, this could be a regular hotspot. Get yourself some sunlight 'round here, knock it off with all that creepy fog; you don't want to frighten the lassies, change the color schemes on her masts and sails, get one of the Nereid girls for the music, though, you being fairly handsome, she's not likely to want payment in money." He winked.

"I have a wife," the Dread Pirate Roberts said for the six million and oneth time.

"Eh, don't worry 'bout it, I can pay her," Tethra assured him with an easy smile. The Dread Pirate Roberts looked annoyed. "But, aye, get this ship cleaned up, get rid of some of the barnacles, maybe some potted plants instead-"

"That's nonsense," Will insisted stubbornly.

"Tis not."

"Is."

"Tis _not_."

"I used to think that you two just didn't know each other very well," Beher observed placidly, lacing his dark hands behind his head, "But now I see that you just like to argue." Will-um-I-mean-the-Dread-Pirate-Roberts ignored him.

"Is."

"Tis not!" Tethra thundered and a sudden thunderclap matched his voice. The Dread Pirate Roberts fell silent, but continued to glare.

"Why can't _you_ do that?" Bootstrap asked DPR disapprovingly.

"Tethra is a _god_, dad," the Dread Pirate Roberts muttered.

"So?"

"So, I'm not a god, dad. Cut me some slack, alright?"

"I don't see what that has t' do with anythin'. You're the undead ruler of the sea – can't you do somethin'?"

There was an awkward silence.

"Ouch," muttered the Ethiopian.

"I am the ferryman for the Underworld," DPR explained stiffly. "It's an important job. I don't need to _do_ anything. Besides, I do things; I can sail a ship underwater."

"When you aren't running into whales," Bootstrap mumbled under his breath. Beher and Tethra stifled their laughter.

"I am not having this argument with you now," the Dread Pirate Roberts stated flatly. "Beher and Tethra..."

"Oh, no, we wouldn't interrupt," Tethra corrected nastily. "Clearly, you two are having an important discussion. Right, Beher?" The Ethiopian merely shrugged, not taking a side. "So we'll be going now. We've things to do." The Dread Pirate Roberts glared at him.

"Of course," he replied coolly. "Do say hello to Boann for me."

"Naturally," Tethra agreed, bowing. "But I'm warning you, Roberts," he added as he walked away. "If you sail this wreck to Ryugu in this state, the girls _will_ be forced to redecorate." The Dread Pirate Roberts stared at him for a moment, his mouth open uselessly, then slumped, defeated. "Be seeing you, laddie," Tethra tossed over his shoulder with a grin, then stepped off the entering ladder with Beher, who nodded politely, and vanished into the sea.

~^///^~

The ghost ship of the Underworld to be redecorated by a bunch of sea-girls! What's a dread pirate to do?

I feel like I'm inundating you in names, if so, I apologize for that, but you'll be meeting most of them quite shortly, so it shouldn't be that much of an issue.

Thanks for reading, I hope it at least made you grin; reviews = love.


	3. III THE FD HAS BACKUP LIGHTS

The Roberts Title & other Absurdities

Disclaimer: Everybody be nice and nobody sue anybody, okay?

The Dread Pirate Roberts gets called 'Will' in this chapter, because poor Elizabeth has yet to be enlightened and it would only confuse her.

This chapter goes out to MsAurora for giving me one of the nicest reviews I have ever received and completely making my week.**tips hat** Here's to you, mate!

III. THE FD HAS BACK-UP LIGHTS

~^///^~

Elizabeth Turner was standing on the shore the way she did every evening; looking out at the sunset and praying beyond all hope that her Will would come back. She wandered wistfully down the beach, tossing small pebbles at the waves and singing a sad song softly to herself. The gulls cried and swooped, the ocean rushed softly at the sand and the pebbles were warm in her hand.

This touching scene was abruptly broken by a deafening 'BANG!', a veritable explosion of sand and a blinding flash of green light so alarming that Elizabeth gave a little shriek and covered her face with her hands.

After a moment, she tried to squint through her fingers and see, but the light was too bright and in the end, she hid her aching eyes in the crook of her elbow. From out of the light came voices.

"Ack, ya incomp'tent ninny of a lubber! You've beached her on the shore!"

"Geez, Dad, alright, I see that!" complained a voice that immediately brought Elizabeth's heart to her mouth. "I overshot a bit, alright? I'll fix it. And for godssake, Travis, will you turn off that light?" The green light winked out and Elizabeth peered hopefully over the top of her arm.

What she saw was the _Flying_ _Dutchman_, looming bizarrely out of the sand in front of her like a half buried effigy.

"Am I clear to try backing up?" Elizabeth heard her beloved ask. She stood on tiptoe and peered hopefully up at the deck high above her, too afraid it was an illusion to trust herself to speak.

"Nothin' in sight, Cap'n," was the prompt reply.

"Alright, take her back, Travis." There was a wooden groaning and then a protesting, scraping sound from the lower hull. The ship moved approximately three inches.

"Oh, great, real good, now ya done it," complained the voice again and Elizabeth recognized it as her father-in-law's. "Her keel's stuck fast."

"I had noticed that," Will replied in annoyance. "Oh, we're just going to have to start this over with. Travis, would you get the light? Dempsey, the smoke? Dad, hit the back-up lights, would you? Are we ready?"

There were three 'ayes'. A high-pitched rhythmic beeping began.

"Alright, three...two..._one_!" The bright green light flashed forth, smoke rose in a great puff and the _Dutchman_ vanished.

"Will!" Elizabeth shrieked in horror, finally finding her voice.

"Wait! Stop the ship!" she heard Will exclaim, though she could no longer see him. "That was Elizabeth!"

"Stop, hey, what're you doin'?" another invisible person shouted, "Cap'n, you can't turn us around now!"

"But it's Elizabeth! I heard her!"

"Cap'n, we're halfway dead right now! We can't go back! Wait 'til we're all the way dead an' then turn us 'round!"

"Listen to him, boy! Who knows what'll happen..." The voices dwindled away until Elizabeth could no longer hear them. She waited anxiously for what seemed an overly long time, wringing her hands.

And then there was another loud bang, another flash of green light, a giant plume of black smoke and the _Dutchman_ appeared floating slightly further offshore. Will's voice came drifting faintly down to her.

"See, Dad?" he muttered, coughing. "There. Happy?"

"I might be if it weren't for the fact that this is your _third_ _try_ today."

"Hey, hold on," Will argued, waving smoke out of his face, "that first one wasn't my fault. We wouldn't have ended up in Madagascar if Dempsey hadn't sneezed!"

"Alright, alright, whatever. We're here. Now go grab your woman. And Mother o' God, Dempsey, do ya have t' use quite _this_ much smoke?"

"It overheated!" the man named Dempsey protested loudly. "_Not_ my fault! This thing is _old_! You ask _way_ too much of her! What d'you think's going to happen if you try and convert us from spirit matter to earth matter _five_ times in a row?! This is delicate equipment!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever," Bootstrap muttered, not really listening. "Just fix it."

"Will?" Elizabeth called worriedly. "Will!"

"One moment, sweetheart!" he shouted back at her. "Dempsey, quite messing around and get that boat in the water! You can fix it later."

"Aye, Cap'n," the man named Dempsey muttered and Elizabeth heard the splash of a boat being lowered into the water. A moment later she spotted a young man with messy blonde hair rowing rapidly toward her. She waded out into the water to meet him, but as she was still craning her neck to catch sight of Will, she didn't really get a look at him until he was stepping out of the jollyboat to help her in.

"Dempsey," he announced cheerfully, extending a powder-blackened hand to help her over the gunwales. "Dimensional expertise, that's me. Glad to meetcha, Mrs., um, Turner."

Elizabeth climbed into the boat as gracefully as she could manage in her haste and seated herself at the bow, wondering what 'Mrs., um, Turner' meant. She tried to judge his character and what a dimensional expertise might be from his large, pale eyes, but he just grinned kind of stupidly at her whenever he caught her looking, so she gave up.

When Elizabeth reached the ship, she fairly flew up the entering ladder and pounced on her husband like something blonde and rabid. What ensued was a flurry of kissing and sickly sweet nothings that I'm not going to try and describe, because it would be very much akin to my stuffing a ratty pink dishrag down your throat.

"Dad," Will ordered over Elizabeth's shoulder, breaking away from the frantic kissing for a moment. "Dempsey, Travis, whoever keeps narrating my thoughts – get off my ship."

The three men rolled their eyes and made for the boat and the camera panned away to a conveniently stunning sunset.

~^///^~

The _Flying Dutchman_ back in the world before her ten years have passed? How can that be? What happens to the souls while the boatman is away? And how will Elizabeth take the news that her husband is 'The Dread Pirate Roberts' now? More on that when they're a little less...occupied.

Reviews = love!


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